


Sunny days in Camelot

by notquitecreative



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 02:33:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11499927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notquitecreative/pseuds/notquitecreative
Summary: A series of one shots about the good old days in Camelot





	1. I sing the body eletric

Merlin in the morning was an exquisite creature. Arthur watched from his window as Merlin crossed the courtyard with his breakfast tray. The young man was tall, gangly, all bones and angles but in the pale light, his skin was ivory, his hair was raven-black, drawing all light into them.

A few moments later, he appeared in Arthur’s bedchambers, and Arthur feigned sleep just to be hauled out of bed. After exchanging a usual banter of morning insults, he ate his breakfast, but his mind was not in the ham and cheese he bites into. Rather, he was imagining what it would feel like to bite into the tall column of ivory neck that Merlin revealed when he arched his back to open wide the curtains, letting a fountain of light into the window. The tiny dust particles danced in the brightness and Merlin turned around with a grin, that grin, Arthur realized, that grin was unique. Merlin had a boy’s grin of pure delight as if what he saw pleased him to his heart’s content, plump pink lips stretching tight, and displaying pearly teeth, eyes narrowing in mirth, dark lashes bordering them. Arthur assigned Merlin his usual chores, throwing clothes in Merlin’s direction to feign indifference to him, and Merlin left his room under a bundle of washing, crashing into a chair in the process.

Merlin in the afternoon was a different kind of beauty. He would be sporting a shield while Arthur would be wielding a sword, attempting to beat him into a pulp, and his groans of exasperation and sarcastic remarks made his words as angular as his jawline and pronounced cheekbones. His blue eyes would be bright in the sun, and his vocabulary would encompass all sorts of swear words dedicated to Arthur. Arthur would respond by wielding a mace, and Merlin would quickly put up his shield in defense.

Merlin in the evening was unbearable to behold. The night wielded a strange sort of power; it distorted events, it amplified emotions, and it put an alien ambience in the air, the kind that suggests that everything done at night is ten times as exhilarating, and twice a bad decision as what’s done under daylight. Merlin would be complaining by evening of how his back ached and his feet were sore, and his eyes would droop downwards, blue orbs half-obstructed by pale eyelids and curtained by long dark lashes, plump pink lips slightly parted as he contemplated the dinner table before him. Arthur ate his dinner and clapped his hands loudly to wake Merlin from his doze to refill his cup of wine, because Merlin was looking far too delicious for comfort.

Merlin at night was pure temptation. Arthur wasn’t nearly drunk enough to forget the fact that he was a king and Merlin was his servant, but Merlin was lighting the candles by the window, and the yellow light lit his features up, making the pale young man look like an ethereal faire, if such things existed. But he wasn’t thinking clearly enough to know that the steps he was taking in Merlin’s direction were bad decisions and that slipping his arms around Merlin’s waist would make Merlin drop the unlit candle and yelp in surprise. A mumble, and a low-pitched  voice asking what Arthur thought he was doing but Arthur had once read somewhere in some scroll that he couldn’t recall that the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it and this he told to Merlin, who was looking more confused by the second. It was only when Arthur pulled him around to kiss him on those longed-for lips that a vague form of understanding passed Merlin’s eyes and the manservant pressed his thin body against Arthur and kissed him back.

Merlin in bed was Arthur’s dreams come true. The rest of his body was as angularly shaped as his face and this unique beauty made Arthur want for more. Running his lips down Merlin’s pale neck, trailing kisses down his sharp jawline, fingers running over ribs, flat, soft stomach, sharp hipbones that jutted out made the other gasp underneath him. Somewhere along the way he lost himself and there was Merlin, more Merlin and only Merlin in his head. But the best resounding happiness was the low, surprisingly deep voice calling Arthur, oh, Arthur, as if he were Merlin’s salvation. Only when they were both worn out and sank heavily into white sheets did Arthur realize what he had done, and far from regretting it, pulled the angular body close to him as he sank pleasantly into his dreams.


	2. The best thing about summer

 

“What, in your opinion, would be the best thing about summer?” Merlin put the question to many Camelotians, and they would always respond with different answers. The farmers at the market boasted their wares in the annual fair and say it was the colours of the fruits in a range of hues, red, orange, green, yellow, white, and of course the money they earned. The castle servants who worked with Merlin at the kitchens would say it was the girls in their light summer dresses, wearing ribbons in their hair that lifted in the light warm breeze, and they might even fancy themselves having a chance armed with a bouquet of wildflowers. 

Gwen had said it was the way everyone seemed to be in a good mood, even Uther, and roads were fair and birds were thrilling in the trees. Morgana even added a snide comment about how the knights in the training fields would often discard their armour and sircoats, and would practice their parries in the grass with sweaty torsos. Gwen laughed at that.

“Is there anyone in particular you have your eye on, Gwen?” Morgana had asked as they sneaked a peek at the window, and Gwen would blush deeply, and Merlin caught the look Morgana was giving him.

“Don’t worry Gwen. I’ll let Lancelot know he looks very good shirtless.” Merlin commented. 

“How dare you!” Gwen would gasp, and chase him around Morgana’s chambers, pelting him with bits of fruit, and Morgana would laugh, clutching her sides.

Merlin escaped from the girls' clutches and meeting Gaius in the hallways, he asked what the best thing about summer was to the old physican, who replied with, “The only good there is of summer is that nobody’s dying in the snow. I’ve had twelve cases of hayfever, and tavern brawls seem to be rowdier still. It’s lads like you, Merlin that keep me up working late in the night. Not to mention, the corpses have been rotting at an alarming rate before they have time to be buried.”

“Cheery, aren’t you?” Merlin replied sarcastically, while Gaius waved him away to his duties and Merlin raced up the stairs into Arthur’s chambers to deliver the king’s freshly laundered shirts and a bowlful of fruit.

Arthur was only in his trousers, looking for a decent shirt to wear and spotting Merlin, decided to blame it on him as usual. Arthur took a quick rifle through Merlin’s bundle of shirts, pulled a thin white one from the bottom, and in doing so, making all the others fall to the ground.

“Hey! I just folded them!” Merlin protested, and Arthur gave him a look that closely resembled the phrase; _do you think I care?_

Merlin fumed as Arthur pulled on his shirt, and copying Gwen’s tactics, plucked off a grape from the bowl and pelted the crown prince with it. The purple fruit hit the king in the neck, and instead of bouncing off, fell into his collar and down his shirt, making Arthur turn around to see what just happened, only to find a grape fall out of his shirt.

Arthur glared at Merlin, but the manservant was too busy laughing to be adequately wary of Arthur’s wrath.

“In a good mood, are you, _Mer_ lin?” Arthur called his name in that special enunciation of his, and Merlin shrugged.

“It is summer, sire, and it stands to reason that everyone should be celebrating the most jovial time of the year.”

“Of course.” Arthur said, gaining upon him menacingly.

“Which…” Merlin began to retreat step by step until he felt a wall behind him, “brings me to a question I’ve been asking most of Camelot - what the best thing about summer is. The whole castle would surely love to know what a crown prince has to say!” Merlin said in the most chipper tone he could manage.

“Would they?” Arthur replied, putting both his arms against the wall, trapping Merlin against it. Merlin grinned sheepishly.

“Your… answer would be?”

“The best thing about summer…” Arthur said, as he pushed Merlin’s skinny torso against the wall, “is that my manservant acts exceptionally stupid in this particular time of year, like a little puppy in a field of daffodils.”

With that Arthur kissed Merlin on the lips, and Merlin relaxed into it, wrapping his hands around Arthur’s waist. Arthur was sweating lightly from having gone down to the fields to oversee training, but his hands felt amazingly good as they slid down to his waist. Arthur grinned, and Merlin saw his bright, pointed eye teeth gleam in the yellow sunlight that poked in through the curtains.

And that, as far as Merlin was concerned, was the best thing about summer.

 


End file.
